Something New
by Kryptonian-Suckerpunch
Summary: Patrick liked thinking. In his eyes, anything could be solved with logic and planning. Daisy liked running. In her eyes, you could avoid anything with fast feet and a sarcastic joke. (Pre Thirty Days Without an Accident. Rated T to be safe)


"Are you sure I should be here?" Patrick's worried voice trailed through the empty courtyard along with his hurried footsteps as he attempted to follow the girl in front of him.

"Oh relax Patty," She answered, swinging her head back to look at him. It was dark, but the moonlight illuminated the grin on her features. "It's not like you're doing anything wrong. You're just joining a friend on watch" She replied, turning away from him and continuing to walk towards her post. Patrick followed, looking over his shoulder for any threats as he did so.

She made it seem harmless, but Patrick couldn't help but to feel like he was breaking some rule. Patrick liked following rules. Rules were needed for a functional society. Rules gave the lives of those in the prison a sense of normalcy. Daisy Beckett, though, was an unpredictable force in Patrick's life.

Daisy was certainly something. Skilled with a dagger and seemingly fearless, she was ready and eager to face any challenges that were set in front of her. Her personality was a rarity in the world they lived in, a jewel of sarcastic jokes and mischievous smiles. Daisy was an enigma if Patrick had ever saw one, and he couldn't help but find himself drawn to her spirit. She had strength but she didn't let it consume her. She knew her job was to protect the Prison but she didn't let the seriousness overcome her life. It was then, nearly midnight, as she somehow convinced him to ditch his curfew and join her on a late night watch.

"You coming?" Her voice broke him from his thoughts, making him realize that he had stopped in his tracks. Her pale face seemed to shine through the night, like a beacon of light in the dark courtyard. Patrick, nearly stunned by the sight, muttered some sort of sheepish 'definitely' and continued to follow her.

They reached their destination, a watch tower by the outskirts of the Prison. Daisy was optimistic yet paranoid, causing her to spend most of her time in the tower. Patrick reasoned that the high-up stand point made it easier for her to see the whole Prison: any threat being detectable. She climbed the ladder and he followed, halfway up before she abruptly stopped.

"You best not be looking at my ass, Patty" She commented, chuckling through her words. Patrick, whom made it a point to look down, blushed a scarlet red. "Was not!" He told her, his reply being another laugh from above. They made it to the tower, Daisy extending a taped-up hand to help him. He took it, glad it was dark enough to make his blush undetectable, and pulled himself up.

"Mi casa es su casa" She smiled, releasing his hand and opening up the door, The watch tower had been personalized by Daisy, blankets on the floor and miscellaneous books and comic books stacked upon the counters. Patrick couldn't help but smile, feeling as if her inviting him up was also an exclusive invite to Daisy's mind.

"Nice place," Patrick commented, trying to sound calm and relaxed. "Those Carl's?" He asked, pointing to the comic book stash. Daisy shrugged, a half smile on her lips. "We share 'em mostly. Michonne refused to play favorites" Daisy shrugged and Patrick nodded, not knowing what else to say. He wished he could say something smooth and charming, but his mind was drawing a blank. His brain had a tendency to do that whenever she was involved, as embarrassing as that was.

Daisy laid a blanket across the floor, sitting cross-legged before tapping the spot across from her. "C'mon Patty, take a seat" she insisted and Patrick obliged.

"I wish you wouldn't call me that" He spoke in a defensive tone, though he smiled.  
"Oh shush up, you love it"  
"You don't have a nickname for Carl"  
"Do too! He's shit-for-brains"  
Patrick chuckled, shaking his head. "You're different, aren't you?"

This seemingly caught Daisy off guard, which wasn't something that Patrick believed possible. Her smile faded and she looked down at her lap, fiddling around with the tips of her blonde hair. Patrick's stomach clenched, wondering how he could of possibly screwed this up within the first couple minutes.

"Did I say something?" He asked, a bit afraid of the answer. Daisy looked up at him, smiling a faint smile at him. "No no, you're fine. Just something my older brother used to say" She shrugged, but Patrick could tell that something was on her mind. Patrick, trying to think of something to say, realized that he had never heard her speak of her past. It was a common occurance among survivors that no one was too eager to speak of their past, but he couldn't help but be surprised by this.

"I'm sorry" Patrick murmured, trying to fill the silence. Daisy shook her head, sucking in a deep breath. "Nothing to be sorry for, Patty. The past is the past, nothing I can do about it"

Things fell silent again before she started laughing. Patrick, confused, questioned her. "What is it?" He asked, only making her laugh more. "You think too much. Whenever I look at you, you have this look on your face. Your thinking face"

"I need to think! There is so much to think about!" he exclaimed, feeling more confident than anytime that night. "This whole world is just variable after variable, and you need to fix the variable before you solve the problem" Patrick couldn't help but to feel so passionate about what he was talking about. He didn't want to be 'just another kid' around the prison, and he knew that logical reasoning was the only way he could make his mark. He turned to Daisy, who was grinning.

"Did I get too into it?" Patrick murmured, voice sheepish and quiet.  
"No, it's cute" Daisy chuckled, scooting closer to him as her laughter diminished.

Patrick's heart seemed to be performing an acrobatic act in his chest. He didn't know much about girls, but compliments and closeness had to mean something. He couldn't focus on anything, his mind clouded with thoughts about the girl in front of him. "What's the matter?" Daisy asked, interrupting him from his thoughts once again. Patrick swallowed a lump in his throat, feeling his cheeks heat up as he blurted out his next sentence.

"I've never really talked to a girl"

He expected Daisy to laugh or tease him, but she only smiled fondly again. "Oh c'mon, Patty the stud hasn't romanced any ladies?" Her voice was in a teasing tone, but it was all in good fun. Patrick shook his head, feeling embarrassed yet comfortable in her presence. "Not exactly. Girls weren't very nice to me back when things were normal"

He spoke the truth. He had spent his school years being ignored, bullied by jocks and laughed at by any pretty girl that crossed his path. He was almost surprised that a girl like Daisy was his friend, even though there weren't really much options for socialization in the zombie apocalypse. Back when things were normal, someone like Daisy would never willingly speak a word to him.

"Well that's their loss," Daisy smiled, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Forget those bitches, okay?" She encouraged him in a genuine tone, looking Patrick in the eyes. He met her green eyes with his brown ones, finding himself smiling at her through the dim lighting of the watch tower.

"You probably had a bunch of boyfriends" Patrick's voice was soft, met with a chuckle from Daisy. "Yeah right. No guy wanted to risk dating a girl with four brothers"

Patrick raised an eyebrow. "Four?" He laughed. "How did you survive?"  
Daisy shrugged. "It wasn't that bad. I learned how to fight before I knew how to walk. Came in handy, as you can tell"

Things got quiet for a bit. "Well look who has a thinking face now" Patrick teased Daisy, whose facial expression matched his own whenever in deep thought. "Oh be quiet," She playfully punched his shoulder, both of them erupting into laughter. Daisy always made him nervous. The mere sight of her made his heart perform an awkward flip flop that was both pleasant and unsettling. They were different in many ways: her free-spirited impulsiveness was opposite to his logical planning lifestyle. She could stab walkers without a thought and Patrick had only killed a handful of them. She could joke and get along with anyone while anxiety riddled Patrick's interaction with many.

Patrick felt a bit bad for their mutual friend Carl. Carl, younger than them both by a few years, was the third to their trio. Carl and Daisy shared a mutual love for comic books, always commenting and bickering about superheroes that Patrick could barely keep straight. He often got a tiny bit jealous of how easily Carl could speak with Daisy, but he now felt bad for the younger boy. Daisy had invited Patrick, not Carl, and he couldn't help but to feel that they were leaving Carl out. Patrick felt silly due to all the times he'd watched Carl and Daisy go off on watch with Daryl or Michonne, but his mind still drummed with thoughts of their friend.

"Daniel, Nate, and George were older than me. Jericho was born when I was eight," Daisy spoke up suddenly, voice not as sharp as it usually was. It was a rare sight, seeing Daisy look and sound vulnerable. "Mom died when after Jericho was born, so Dad worked a lot. Daniel took care of us most of the time, but he had sport practices and stuff" Daisy shrugged again, one of the only times a smile didn't follow. "What about you?"

Patrick shook his head. "Only child. Dad left when I was a baby and Mom was an accountant" Patrick mirrored her shrug. There wasn't much to his past, but he knew it wasn't the same for most people. Daisy seemed to read his mind, because she added "Everyone's got their demons"

Patrick nodded, trying to think of what his could possibly be. He knew she was right, but something that weighed you down like an anchor wasn't something that could be figured out by numbers and formulas. Patrick was a thinker, and he liked things that could be solved with pure thought and logic. Daisy disagreed, often complaining about the Math work that Carol gave them to 'keep their brains fresh'. Daisy and Carl often reasoned that 'their brains can't be fresh if they get eaten'.

"Enough of me trying to be a philosopher," Daisy's said in a sing song voice, smiling again. "We can think about our demons later. What do you want to talk about?"

Patrick shrugged. He never was good at conversation, but all hope was lost when it came to talking to her. "Favorite color?" He asked

"Blue"  
It went on like this for awhile. He would ask her a question, something small like favorite book or favorite quote, and she would answer. Patrick asked questions all the time and he didn't have to worry about embarrassing himself in front of her. There was safety in merely asking for her opinion, as well perks. They were stupid questions, but answer by answer, he was effortlessly closer to Daisy. Closer to her enigmatic mind.

"You're telling me you don't miss cheeseburgers?" Patrick asked, voice riddled with disbelief.  
"Vegetarians don't miss what they've never had"  
Patrick raised an eyebrow.  
"Mom was a hippie when she was alive. Why do you think my name is Daisy?"  
This answer was more personal than others, making Patrick feel closer than ever.

It wasn't just a mental closeness. Throughout this playful Q&A, they had moved closer to each other. They went from a few feet away to inches. Patrick wasn't good with girls, to say the least. They, like personal demons, weren't solved with logic and numbers. Girls were intricate, complicated and unpredictable. They were almost different species, a far more advanced technology that he could hardly grasp.

But Patrick was also a fan of observation. He lacked knowledge of girls, but he wasn't an idiot. Alone with a girl, laughing and smiling with her hand on his thigh was as good a time to kiss her as any, a seemingly perfect moment amongst a world of tragedy… until Daisy looked out the window.

"What a mood killer" She commented, voice hard as she pointed outwards, the main gate nearing collapse as a horde pressed their weight up against it.


End file.
